Tuesday Morning
by tuesdaymorning.168
Summary: Their love was star-crossed.


**Author's**** Note: **I've always loved Ryan and Marissa. They belong together, I think, even though they're both messed up in their own ways (Marissa more so than Ryan). This was inspired by Michelle Branch's song, "Tuesday Morning."

She remembers once, in the morning, before the sun had fully come up, lying in bed next to him, watching him sleep. He was so calm, and that peaceful look on his face- which was more often than not missing, made him look like a little boy.

They would never work, and yet somehow they had fit. He was her savior, her knight. He was the one solid thing in her world, and yet when she had held on tight, that was not enough.

He was patient and quiet. She sometimes caught him watching her with a shy smile on his face in the corner of her eye, especially when he was in her room waiting for her to get ready. She was the girl-next-door, pretty and innocent. She remembered when she first met him, standing at the end of her driveway, waiting for her then-boyfriend to pick her up in that ridiculous truck of his. He had looked so mysterious and so out of place that she instantly knew she wanted to know him. She remembered how he had told her that he could be anyone he wanted her to be.

Sometimes he pushed her away. She had her flaws, her faults. She knew this. She knew she was not as innocent or perfect as she used to be. On rainy days she liked to remember the first night she ever shared a bed with him, how he had tenderly held her. He knew that was what she needed.

And then there were the times when he had gotten it. Those times when he had looked at her, from afar and she just knew that he loved her. He never told her all the time, but words weren't always his thing. He could just look at her, and then she would know. He had gotten the way that sadness at times enveloped her in misery. He had understood that she sometimes locked herself in her closet, just to get away. She saw how he looked at her that first night at that fashion show she hosted for charity. She knew how he sped all the way to that New Years' party just to tell her that he loved her too. Just to kiss her.

She was damaged, but she still knew how to love. And she loved him with all of her broken heart. He loved her enough to forgive her. For his brother's death. For all of her stupid and silly mistakes. She knew she was reckless. She knew she was stupid. She knew that she didn't deserve to be saved. But he always came and carried her back to safety. Always.

When she saw him leaving that first weekend he stayed, through the car window, she wondered if she would ever see him again. But she felt it in her bones that she would. She knew, and in some way it was fate. But they were like what that line from Romeo & Juliet said; their love was star-crossed.

She didn't know that she was going to die that night. She doesn't remember the crash at all. She was nearly out after he found her amongst the wreckage, pulling her out, trying to save her, yet again. Only this time he couldn't.

She remembered him telling her that he could be anyone she wanted him to be. She wants him to be happy. He had made her so, but in some ways it was not enough. She was just too sad and broken for them to complete each other. One of her last thoughts was that perhaps her leaving him would be the best she could do for him. One day, someday he would finally move on. Some girl who was whole could make him smile.

That Tuesday morning, before the accident, she had watched him sleep. He looked so innocent and perfect and fragile. She was a mess, the disaster that had struck his life several times. She had gently swept his hair back with her fingers. She had tenderly kissed him on the forehead, before mentally taking a picture of his sleeping form and leaving. She had wanted to remember him like this.

They had always been meant to be, and yet they couldn't. They fit but in the end he couldn't cure her sadness. She loved him so much with her broken heart. But she knew it wouldn't be enough. So that morning, she had left. He would call and she would always try to answer. She had never wanted to be alone. But knowing the truth, she had gathered her things and left, before gently closing the door behind her.


End file.
